


truth or don't you dare (murphy's fine, i swear)

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Bunker Fluff, Emotions, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff that might make you cry a bit, Gen, Humor, Maybe - Freeform, Truth or Dare, What's going on, everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:51:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're losing their minds and Clarke should've known better.</p><p>Next time they're bored they'll just have some lemonade and shut up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	truth or don't you dare (murphy's fine, i swear)

**Author's Note:**

> So, of course, if you're just coming across this disaster of a series I'll have to ask you to read the first few parts first, pretty please? It'll just make more sense, you know? Thanks, new reader. You're the best!
> 
> This installment is the most ridiculous emotional roller-coaster I've ever written. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll be confused and you'll punch your screen. P.S. I hope you like dialogue... oops!
> 
> I'm thinking of changing the name of this series to "Somewhat Out Of Character Creepy Lizard Boy and Fairy Princess Cuddlepuff Mom With Blades In Her Purse Probably Have Weird Emotional Adventures On A Deserted Island Except For That Creepy Hot Holograph Woman and Psycho Baby Killer Moses Wannabe".
> 
> What do you think?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! Or don't. I'm not the boss of you.

“Hand me the small one- no- yes that one. What are you _\- Clarke! No! Clarke stop!_ ”

 The blonde grinned, perched much like a bird on the kitchen counter as she mercilessly shot rubber bands at Murphy, leaving little red marks all over his exposed skin.

“This-“ She shoots one. “is what happens-“ And another. “when you refuse-“ And one more. “to put on clothes-“ The last one, she swears. “in the presence of a-“

Murphy ducked behind his hands and grumbled something under his breath, something that sounded vaguely like “Bitch.”, immediately prompting Clarke to launch off of the counter-top onto his back and hook an elastic band around his mouth, pulling back as if he were a reigned horse.

 _“A lady!”_ She finished as he swatted angrily, screaming in the fairly quiet bunker. Murphy eventually pushed her off onto the tiled floor and stormed off into the bedroom, red lines emerging from the corners of lips as if he were the Joker- a super weird character with even weirder war paint. They’d seen it in a movie a few weeks ago.

“Murphy! I was kidding! You were decent with pants and all, I’m sorry!” She called, scrambling over the mess-covered floor in her clumsy, fairly buzzed state. Clarke opened the bedroom door without knocking and creeped over to the bed on the ends of her toes.

“I know you’re in here, Clarke.” He mumbled into the fluffed-up comforter, and Clarke smiled as she dove onto his back again, knees first. The slim boy gasped as she knocked the breath out of him, rolling over in the bed to make distance between them. “There goes my spine.” He moaned, shifting uncomfortably.  Clarke smiled, staring at the ceiling as their arms touched, both lying on their backs.

“Tell that to Raven.”

“Hey now, we don’t talk about real life stuff in the Bunker Of Dreams.” He scolded, and Clarke sighed in response.

 “Can't believe I'm the one to say it, but you’re getting on my last nerve, Griffin, you know that?” He questioned with raised eyebrows, and Clarke frowned.

 “I’m really bored. I have a lot of pent up energy and you won't go swimming with me. This is your punishment."

“Life moves slow when you aren’t fighting for your life, Princess. Get used to it.”

Clarke draped a leg over his, desperate for contact. When there’s only one human in your life for such a long time- a month, maybe, but she wasn’t so sure anymore- you don’t want to be anywhere but near them. Why it had to be John Murphy, of all people, Clarke just couldn’t understand.

She wanted to be held when she cried, but the first time that happened he stood four feet away and stared like a hawk until she stopped, the creep.

She wanted to cuddle a person or a lot of blankets, and he took all of the blankets and curled into himself.

She wanted to talk, to feel better, but John Murphy was the absolute king of bottling up feelings for seventeen years, opening up and letting a tear slip once a month at most, and then putting the cap right back on.

She told herself she didn’t want to be close, but now that she figured all of the Sky People were probably dead or had forgotten about her or moved far away or didn’t need her anymore or, anything, really, it’s all she wanted.

She wanted to be close, now. She wanted to learn all about him. If they were going to live out their pathetic lives in here until they lost their minds and went outside, tried to go back and were eaten by a sea snake or crushed in a sandstorm or something, she thought might as well learn every inch of that strange boy.

-

“Murphy, are you drunk?”

“Not really.”

Clarke nodded, dissatisfied. She had been feeding him glass after glass of whiskey in hopes of shattering his walls and ripping into his chest to remove his still-beating heart and read all of his secrets from the squishy organ like a book and _\- oh,_ that was, graphic.

Maybe she should stop reading Mr. Nuclear’s murder mysteries.

What she meant was, she wanted to play one-on-one truth or dare (truth) with John Murphy.

He was chewing on his already split ends when she looked over, a bad habit he had recently developed that majorly pissed Clarke off.

“I mean, it’s so gross. All this food and you’re eating your own hair!” She had cried out, and he frowned.

“I’m not eating it, just biting.”

A master of speech and debate.

She pushed her cold feet under his warm thigh from across the couch, and he didn’t make an effort to shove her away, so she figured it was fine to use him as a human sock.

Flesh socks. That’s actually a good id-

She needs to stop.

Clarke rubbed her eyes and smiled at him, and he stared back with that creepy lizard face of his. “Truth or dare.” She whispered, and his entire creepy lizard face twisted up.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“There’s two of us. Ya’ wanna play spin the bottle too, Princess?”

“How many times do I have to ask you to quit calling me that?”

“Four more.”

“Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.”

“You didn’t ask, you demanded. I’m upping it to seventy-two.”

“Don’t be surprised if you die in your sleep tonight.”

“I die in my sleep every night!” Murphy crowed with seemingly delight, and Clarke’s face distorted into an uncomfortable smile.

That shouldn’t have been funny.

They were losing their minds.

“Okay, go.”

He shrugged. “Truth or dare, Princess?”

Clarke fake gagged, and then grumbled, “Truth.”

“Is it true you ‘you-knowed’ with the King?”

“I what? With who?”

“The King. Bellamy. You guys did the do.”

“Murphy, what are you trying to say?”

“You went to pound town with Bellamy Blake, yes?”

“English!”

“Did you have sexual intercourse with Bellamy Blake or did you not?”

Clarke exploded with laughter, and a fleck of spit landed on Murphy’s bright- red, confused and slightly disgusted face.

“Is he that bad?”

“No –I - I can’t believe you wouldn’t say- oh my god! What are you, four?!” Clarke screeched into the couch cushion, laughing hysterically.

Murphy grumbled, “It’s not that funny.”, jumping off of the couch and slinking awkwardly over to the bathroom, before it became an angry stomp and he slammed the door behind him.

“Murphy- I-“ Clarke panted between gasps, trying to stop laughing as best she could.

She pounded on the door and heard the lock click into place, and the sound of Murphy sliding down against the door.

“Murphy, please. Oh- oh my god, I-“ Clarke continued to giggle, pleasantly buzzed by the alcohol and definitely entertained by his discomfort.

She finally calmed herself, sinking down on the other side of the door and collapsing against it. After a long pause she sighed, a smile lingering on her lips.

“No, I did not sleep with Bellamy.”

She heard a sigh of what seemed like relief from the other side of the door.

“Murphy- do you-“

“I did.”

“You’re joking.”

“When we first came down to Earth in the dropship, before he, you know, ruthlessly stabbed me in the back when I was innocent and had obeyed his every god damn order like a golden retriever since day one.”

Clarke half smiled- half frowned.

“What’d you like about him?”

“Eyes, definitely. Those were- cool, and uh, brown. I guess. He has a nice butt.”

Clarke giggled, brushing a strand of blonde behind her ear as she listened to his muffled voice from the other side of the door.

“He’s a good person, really. He was lost, then, you know.”

“I think he knew what he was doing when he kicked the crate out from under me.”

Clarke decided not to argue, because, it’s true. Bellamy had horribly wronged Murphy and there was no way to defend that.

She wouldn’t bring up what he had done in return.

“I’m sorry for holding a knife to your neck.” He mumbled, and Clarke laughed.

“Seems so long ago.”

“Your hair still smelled really nice. Everyone else smelled like… unspeakable things.”

“You smelled a lot of people, then?”

Murphy immediately began to protest, blabbering excuse after excuse as Clarke laughed.

“Fine, your turn.” He cut her off, eventually, and she heard his head fall back against the door.

“Truth or dare?”

“Da- truth.” Murphy stuttered, changing his mind suddenly.

This pleased Clarke. Very much so.

“Tell me what you thought about Raven.”

Murphy groaned.

“Murphy you have to play. Fair and square.”

“She has pretty skin.”

“More.”

“She’s a bitch.”

Clarke punched the door.

“Okay, okay! Fine.” There was a long pause before he took a deep breath, and continued. “She never hurt me, you know? She wasn’t there when I was hung, so I liked her enough. No reason not to, right? Then we ended up in the dropship together when I thought I was going to die, and I realized she was the one I shot, not Octavia.”

Clarke’s face scrunched up as she listened to all of this new information, eyebrows twitching at the way he hissed out his S’s.

“So I told her, some things. Really personal things, because she kept pestering me and I thought I had nothing to lose. And well, frankly, I owed her one. I shot her and I felt like crap about it.”

“So what about now, Murphy?” Clarke prodded, testing the waters to see how much she could get out of him. He was being surprisingly open, but she supposed she had never asked.

She supposed no one had ever asked.

“She tried to give me up to the Grounders, Clarke!”

Clarke hummed. “Well…”

He interrupted her immediately. She could say she expected that.

“I didn’t even do anything wrong! I tried to stop Finn- hell, he was kind of my friend, too! Maybe! She called me a murderer and I know I did that and I shouldn’t have but I did because I was angry and I wasn’t thinking, because I never think, god, and- she knew what the Grounders did to me and she- and she-“

Clarke shushed him as his voice began to shake, and fear stirred deep in her stomach. What had compelled her to make him face this again? She felt tears prick at her eyes as he mentioned Finn. “It’s okay, you’re safe, okay? She was scared for Finn, you have to understand what it’s like-“

His voice rose to a level of panicked anger she had never heard from him, or anyone for that matter.

_“I know what it’s like to love someone, Clarke! Damn it, I know good and well!”_

This truth or dare thing was a terrible, terrible idea.

Clarke turned and pressed her forehead against the white bathroom door. “Open the door, Murphy.”

“No.”

“Open it.”

"You all think I'm some poor emotionally stunted god damn freak or something and I- and I- my parents, Clarke-"

"I know." Clarke cooed, as if he were a frightened wild animal, and in many ways he was.

"Murphy, will you please open the door?"

After a long silence, the door swung open and Murphy fell into Clarke’s arms, and she held on tight.

His body followed her limply as she scooted against the wall in front of the toilet, and Clarke’s hands, not knowing what else to do, shot up to his mess of brown hair.

She combed her fingers through it, which smelled of mint and lavender, for hours maybe, and he did not cry.

They sat with their backs to the bathroom wall that night, his head resting on her shoulder as she played with his hair.

“I killed them.”

“No you didn’t.”

He paused, shoulders tense.

“How did you know?”

“I asked Raven what you two talked about. She told me you were probably an okay guy deep down, if it means anything.”

He was quiet for a long time.

“It doesn’t.”

He fell asleep then.

Clarke's hands kept twisting, curling, turning. There was no more blood in his hair. There hadn't been for a while.

There was no blood on her hands, now, that she could see. There always would be.

She supposed she'd just have to become okay with the fact that she would always being wiping the tears of another until her fingers finally disintegrated under her own tears at last.

She'd sit on the bathroom floor and hold his tired head until she eroded away, if she had to. 

She'd allow her own sorrows to weave through her ribs until they crushed her completely if it meant she could finally save someone the right way.

She supposed she was okay with that.

And her hands kept moving.

-

He woke up again, a few hours later, and her fingers were as numb as her exhausted mind as she still absently ran them through his long hair.

“I think I might love you.”

Clarke’s hands stopped.

“In a friend way, but also like- if I had to pick a girl.” He sniffed.

Clarke bit back a grin.

“I’d agree, but Lexa is much more attractive than you, if I had to sleep with an asshole traitor.”

Murphy’s lips twitched into a soft smile.

“Fair enough.”

-

"Hey Murphy?"

He hummed.

"Never mind."

"If you had to pick a dude?"

"Yeah."

She felt him laugh into her shoulder, and it kind of felt like home.

**Author's Note:**

> What just happened? I don't know either.
> 
> But I enjoyed writing this bit and I hope you enjoyed reading it.
> 
> Let me know how you felt in the comments, please, please, PLEASE. Your comments inspire me to write more weird, low-quality, semi-depressing, pieces for your beautiful little eyeballs to devour, you emotional Clarphy weirdos whom I love and worship.
> 
> Also, BIG QUESTION OF THE DAY: I should've made this a chapter story, huh? Because, WHAT NOW? Would you guys like more meaningless, aimless installments, or an ending after SEVERAL more installments that I'll try to make worth your while? Personally I'd love to make a real story for you guys, if you want, of course.
> 
> So much love, every comment and kudos makes me smile. You guys are the cutest. <3 Thanks!


End file.
